


exhaust trails through space.

by Werepirechick



Series: B-team is the Best Team [8]
Category: Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (TV 2012), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types
Genre: Brothers, Dysfunctional Family, Dysfunctional Relationships, Fluff, Gen, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Outer Space, Post-Canon, Reconciliation, Road Trips, Space Stations, Vacation, feelings talk, its mostly a lighthearted version of similar themes, kinda like my fic These Days but less angsty and dramatic, they're older now and can actually start to sort through shit, tiniest amount of angst too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-01-26
Packaged: 2019-03-09 19:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13488222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Werepirechick/pseuds/Werepirechick
Summary: “I cannotbelieve- you know what, no, no I can believe he’d think that was okay. Like Raph wasn’t the first one to make things physical, likealways-”Donnie slams his hands on a table, facing Mikey from the other side of it.“I am so sick of their bullshit,” he says.Mikey rubs his shoulder a little more, massaging the forming bruise. “Same,” he replies.Donnie walks away from his table, pacing a bit more, and then rounds to look Mikey dead in the eye.“We need a god damn vacation,” Donnie states.





	exhaust trails through space.

**Author's Note:**

> commissioned by Stasispunk on tumblr, a bunch of b-team shenanigans in space. <3

It’s not  _bad,_  in their home. It’s not. But sometimes it’s just… not good.

It’s not one person’s fault, and it’s not  _everyone’s_  fault, either. They’re not the most functional people in the world, even if they were counted as ‘people’ by the greater majority of planet earth. They all have problems, and bad nights, and moments where they just fuck up a situation that could have gone better. And they’re trying, honest, to make it work even with just each other and their friends to lean on for support.

Mikey knows all that, but it still sucks sometimes. Maybe a lot of the time, when rough patches pop up and take root. Sometimes things just suck and that’s a fact about his family’s life.

Doesn’t make it any easier, when it’s the third week in a row where hardly anyone has had what they could call a ‘good night’, and it’s the umpteenth fight about something stupid. The chores today, training yesterday, and attitude the day before that…

It’s always something, and it feels like one or more of them are always mad about it. Some nights it’s easy as avoiding that brother, and some nights it’s not.

Some nights its itchy, bitter frustration building in Mikey’s throat and a lot of words coming out that really shouldn’t. Some nights its Raph saying words just like Mikey’s, and both of their voices climbing higher to be heard over the other. Tonight it’s that, with the additional noise of Leo and Donnie telling both of them to shut up and let it just  _drop_  already, and Raph finally losing his temper to the point it gets physical.

They’ve all had it a hundred times worse, but a rough shove backwards, enough Mikey has to really pay attention so he doesn’t fall over, is a real pain in the neck to deal with. Enough that it’s one of the nights he  _doesn’t_  back down at that, and instead shoves right back.

Raph makes an angry snarl for the blow, and punches Mikey’s shoulder hard enough it’ll probably bruise. That’s when Leo and Donnie pull them apart, dividing them into B-team and A-team once again.

There’s a lot of yelling and not-yelling going on, and Mikey’s shoulder is smarting as much as his pride is, and all he catches is-

“Mikey, you apologize, and then we can all just put this behind us-”

“Excuse me, you want  _him_  to apologize? For not wanting to pick up  _Raph’s_  dishes?”

“Raph already did the sweeping today, it wasn’t that big of a deal for him to ask Mikey-”

“Raph can clean up his own shit, oh my god. Expecting other people to always do that for him is frankly ridiculous-”

“It isn’t always-”

“It sure feels like it!”

“Donnie.”

“ _Leo.”_

And after a moment of glaring, Mikey suddenly finds himself being dragged out of the room as Donnie throws over his shoulder, “You know what?  _Fuck both of you.”_

Leo tries to call after them. “ _Donnie-”_

“No! Piss off, Leo!”

Just like that, Mikey finds himself in his brother’s lab, and the doors being slammed behind them. He rubs his sore shoulder absently while Donnie paces, muttering and cursing and being generally upset.

“I cannot  _believe-_  you know what, no, no I  _can_  believe he’d think that was okay. Like Raph wasn’t the first one to make things physical, like _always-”_

Donnie slams his hands on a table, facing Mikey from the other side of it.

“I am so sick of their bullshit,” he says.

Mikey rubs his shoulder a little more, massaging the forming bruise. “Same,” he replies.

Donnie walks away from his table, pacing a bit more, and then rounds to look Mikey dead in the eye.

“We need a god damn vacation,” Donnie states.

Mikey thinks about that. They actually… haven’t ever taken one of those?

“Not many places to go when you’re a turtle, Dee,” he points out, which is one of the reasons why they’ve never done that.

Donnie mutters grudgingly that that’s true. Then he snaps his fingers and says, “But in  _space,_  we can go anywhere!”

Mikey tilts his head.

That’s… very true. He says so, then adding with a slight  _are you kidding me_  tone, “And how are we supposed to get up there, genius?”

Donnie pulls out his t-phone, tapping away on the screen.

“Bishop owes me a few favors  _at least,_  considering how much we’ve helped them out in the past. Plus, I walked him through how to set up Netflix across dimensional planes. Three hours of  _that_  definitely warrants a spaceship loan.”

 

 ---

 

It takes less time than Mikey would have thought to have a ship.

No longer than half a night, and a ship is ready for them to fly into the stratosphere. Brought straight from the remaining reserves of the Kraang armada, now the Utrom armada; basically with Mikey and Donnie’s name on it.

They pack their bags and weapons. It takes shorter than ten minutes, what with how much practice of having to grab essentials and just  _go_  they’ve had. Years of life or death situations are good for something.

Once they have everything together- and have made sure April will come and take care of ICK, because Mikey couldn’t  _ever_  leave without making sure his cat would be cared for properly- they stand in the technical living room of their home and announce,

“We’re going to space,” Mikey says proudly, and maybe a lot smugly. “See you guys in a few weeks.”

“What,” Leo says, staring at them.

“April will keep an eye on ice cream kitty,” Donnie assures. “so don’t bother feeding her at all.”

“What,” Raph says, also staring.

“Stay out of the lab,” Donnie says.

“ _And_  my room,” Mikey says.

 _“What?”_   Their brothers say.

“See you!” Mikey cheers, and absconds with Donnie before anyone can stop them.

 

\---

 

For Donnie, laying his hands on the controls of the formerly Kraang ship is a clean breath inwards. Bringing it online, activating it’s cloaking, and taking off from the ground of the military compound is literally like flying.

The stratosphere rushes to meet them, and Donnie finds himself grinning as the blue of earth fades from the viewpoint. Only endless stars and space ahead of them, an entire universe full of options.

Donnie glances to his side, where he finds Mikey. His brother beaming at the smears of starlight all around them, so excited he’s nearly jittering.

Mikey glances up at him, and Donnie finds his own mouth copying the wide excited smile. Already this trip is an improvement. Mikey barely seems to be feeling the bruise on his shoulder, and Donnie hasn’t found himself thinking about certain arguments in over a half hour.

Their phones are now thoroughly out of range with earth, and they’ve got all the time in the world to explore to their hearts content. Now the only question is…

Where will they go first?

 

\---

 

They find out unfortunately quick that Kraang are not welcome. Literally anywhere.

After the fifth misunderstanding, and subsequent terror/grudge inspired firefight, Donnie announces they’ll be getting a new ship. Because getting shot at every two hours is the opposite of a vacation.

“But we have zero space dollars, dude,” Mikey points out as they pull into a space dock, planetside of a well populated area and after haggling the local law enforcers into believing that  _no,_  they are not a lone Kraang ship here to wage short and stupid war on a tourist planet.

“ _Weeellll….”_  Donnie says slowly as they pack up their meager possessions. “We can get an okay price for ship scrap, so that’s a start.”

“Enough for a new ship?” Mikey asks as they clip on the air conversion collars Bishop loaned them.

Donnie makes an  _Eh, not quite_  noise. Mikey looks at him for a moment, and then says, “ _Oh._  Okay. Right off the bat?”

Donnie shrugs. “It was bound to happen eventually,” he says as he double checks all his weapons. “We’re bad at staying on people’s good side anyway, might as well do it on purpose for once.”

Seeing as this is their second time on a space voyage, and they’re older and more skilled at it now, it’s actually very easy to steal a new space ship. Sleek and small and  _fast,_  perfect for outrunning law enforcement and formerly wasted on the alien equivalent of a trust fund baby.

They then begin the 2.0 version of their vacation, adrenaline hot in their veins and somewhat maniacal laughter filling their ship as they warp away from the long arm of the law.

 

\---

 

Seeing as no one is hunting their heads this time around (excluding that one quadrant where they stole their ship from), there is abruptly a list of options longer than Mikey’s whole  _body_  of what they can do. Their options have always been so limited, even the last time they’d been out here, and it makes Mikey’s head spin for a few minutes.

Best yet, there’s only Donnie here with him in the cockpit of their ship. That’s only one person to convince, and Donnie has always been easier to try that with than any of their other siblings. Donnie’s more likely to listen, as long as it’s not too stupid a suggestion.

“Theme park!” Mikey says, snapping his fingers.

“Theme park,” Donnie agrees, writing down the idea on the little holopad that came with the ship.

“Oh and, um, shit, what’s that wet one of those?”

“Waterpark?”

“ _Yes,”_  Mikey says reverently. “I wanna use an actual waterslide at least once before I die.”

“Same, honestly,” Donnie says, adding that as well.

Mikey thinks a little more, about parks, and water, and things to do with both of those. And he arrives to a suggestion that seizes him with a strong sweep of fervency.

“ _Beach!”_  Mikey yells. “OH. My god. We have to go to a beach. Everyone has to visit a beach at  _some point.”_

He glances at Donnie, who is looking at him funny.

“What?” Mikey asks, and then feels tired trepidation that of all his suggestions, the one he wants most is the one he’ll have to fight for.

Donnie snorts, chuckling as he taps on the holopad. “Nothing, it’s just for a second there I thought you called me a bitch.”

Mikey relaxes. “Not that time,” he jokes. He leans forwards in his pilot seat, towards his brother’s. “But seriously. Beach. We  _have_  to go find a real beach. Please?”

“Way ahead of you,” Donnie says. He taps the holoscreen one more time, and a map of stars pops up on the connected ones to the controls. He grins at Mikey. “I think a beach day is an excellent way to kick things off.”

Mikey chest is full of bubbling joy, and he throws his hands up with a whoop as Donnie sends their ship speeding towards the destination.

 

\---

 

Half a cycle’s voyage and twenty minutes of bickering about which spot to land on later, with brilliant blue waves crashing against the shore and golden beach that stretches for miles each way, and their air converter collars functioning just fine in the new environment,

“You should totally eat it,” Mikey says.

Donnie gives his brother an incredulous look. “It’s an unidentified alien organism on a deserted planet. I’m not going to  _eat it.”_

“It’s an alien organism on a deserted planet that looks exactly like an earth lobster. We gotta eat it.”

Donnie gestures at the space crustacean between their feet on the sand. “It’s bright green! I’m not eating a neon green lobster from space.”

“Technically,” Mikey points out. “ _we’re_  green turtles from space, and he just lives here.”

“I’m not eating it.”

“Suit yourself.”

It’s only later, when the two suns have set and they’ve set up camp outside the ship for dinner, that Donnie looks at the lobster again. And considers.

“…that smells good,” he comments, watching Mikey crack open the shell of the lobster he’s boiled to a dark blue.

“’bout to find out if it  _tastes_  good,” Mikey replies, and takes a bite out of the pale flesh inside. Donnie waits for Mikey to keel over and the rush to find the right medicinal injection to begin, but all he gets is his brother chewing, swallowing, and saying,  _“Whew!”_

“That’s like getting punched in the nose with flavor, oh my god,” Mikey says, wiping his nose and grinning. “Dee, you  _sure_  you don’t want in?”

Donnie looks at the dry ration bars in his hands, and his stomach rumbles as the scent of (probably) shellfish wafts past him.

“Gimme,” he finally relents. Mikey hands him one of the claws with a grin, and Donnie finds out eating lobster does in fact feel like getting punched in the nose with flavor. But it’s a good one, if a little overwhelming at first.

They polish off the lobster, and then go looking for more. Two more end up in the pot taken from the ship’s tiny kitchen, and they methodically shell them under the moonlight by their fire.

 

\---

 

In stark contrast to the beach destination, Mikey lets Donnie drag him to a planet at least several centuries ahead of earth with technology, if not more.

Not exactly where he would have wanted to go next, but hey, fairs fair. This is a joint trip, and Donnie didn’t even fight with him on going to the beach. Mikey’s gotta share control of their list.

So, rather than hitting up one of the artificial planets made specifically for partying, or one that’s built all its cities in the sky, they land on one that’s long past its phase of military might and moved into intellectual ventures. Transferring their old military research into betterment of the galaxy and all that.

They pick a showcase for tourists, since that’s what they are, and it’d be a big mess for sure if they tried to sneak into the top secret research facilities (which Mikey suspects they might end up breaking into anyway, at some point).

A lot of it goes  _way_  over Mikey’s head, but he’s alright with that for the most part. A laser beam works the same either way, even when you don’t understand exactly  _how_  it blows up stuff. All that really matters is the seriously sick laser show it creates.

Donnie makes a series of needy, high pitched noises at the end of the show; eyes shining as the demonstrators move on to the more technical part of things. Opening up the interior of the machines for those in the crowd with a head for that kind of thing, while all the normal folks start moving on to the next exhibition.

Mikey glances after the crowd, hearing distantly loud speakers in the ceiling tell visitors are welcome to witness another demonstration of technology- this one an aquatic vehicle, and involving a splash zone to get caught in.

Mikey fidgets a little, because that sounds  _really fun,_  but Donnie is still enamored with the speakers on stage. He wants to leave, but also not.

Donnie notices Mikey’s wistful glances, and grimaces sheepishly.

“Sorry for making you wait, this is just really interesting,” he says, rubbing his neck and looking awkward. Then Donnie offers, “You can go on ahead if you want.”

Mikey chews on that for a moment, and then says, “Nah. I’m good. Not like we haven’t seen stuff like that before.”

It would be neat to see the aquatic car thingy- plus get  _splashed_  during the demonstration, or be quick enough to  _not_  get splashed, that’s even better- but it would be more fun to do it  _with_  Donnie, instead of on his lonesome.

They don’t have much in common that’s fun for both of them, so. Why walk away from the chance to share something? Especially something that lifts all the stress that tends to sit on Donnie’s shoulders, and makes him smile like he had when they were younger, holding his first IPad with an intact screen.

Donnie scrutinizes Mikey for a brief moment, and then gives a small smile.

“Let’s move closer to the front,” he suggests with a tinge of giddy curiosity in his voice. “I might be able to copy some of it from memory later.”

“Sure,” Mikey agrees easily. “The Shellraiser would be like, twice as cool if we gave it  _lasers.”_

“That’s the plan,” Donnie says, a glint in his eye. Mikey grins. Cool weapons are _definitely_  something they can agree on.

They end up staying after each demonstration to hear the what’s what of things, and Mikey’s attention definitely wanders during them, but Donnie is focused intensely enough for the both of them. It evens out.

Plus, Donnie takes Mikey to the biggest, baddest, most  _epic_  theme park of three systems right after they’re done- just on the other side of the planet, how did Mikey  _miss that_  in the brochures- and then he is far too busy trying to ride  _every single ride possible_  to care about anything else.

It’s a good vacation spot. Loud, teeming with people, a bright sun hanging over their heads- they’ve seen plenty of this stuff on television, but never actually experienced walking through halls of valuable and ingenious inventions, rarely experienced the thrill of adrenaline that didn’t come from danger and certainly never experienced being pressed into a huge crowd, hundreds of people around them and not giving a second look their way.

It’s a good spot to stop, like the quiet freedom of the beach was. Miles and miles of untouched nature, not another soul to disturb them, and an endless sea they could swim in all they wanted. Just the two of them, all on their own, and for once an easy balance struck between them.

It’s good to see the lingering exhilaration in Donnie, once they leave that planet. Mikey almost interrupts a few times, a little bored but mostly just confused by all the scientific stuff Donnie is rambling about, but then he stops for a moment and looks at the bright excited smile his brother has, and just… doesn’t want it to stop.

Like it usually does, when someone tells him enough is enough and changes the conversation topic.

So Mikey keeps his mouth shut for the most part, and gives his best at trying to understand the things Donnie goes on about. He notices after a bit that Donnie tries to include him, bringing up potential redesigns to their cars and the lair’s facilities that Mikey could get interested in.

Donnie could’ve just kept on about the more complicated stuff, but he’s actively trying to make their conversation something Mikey can contribute to- which doesn’t often happen. It’s a little clumsy, faltering here and there as Donnie backtracks to water down the jargon, but that attempt at inclusion makes Mikey smile.

 

\---

 

Their ship breaks down after about seven different stops, and they have to pull over planetside to get into a repair shop. One thing leads to another, a wrench and fission torch end up in Donnie’s hands, and then he’s arm deep in the engine of their ship and drinking up every bit of information their mechanic gives him.

And there’s another three ships in the shop, all with totally different engine designs and aeronautic exteriors and Donnie wants to take every single one of them apart, haul every manual he can find into his lap, and commit the contents to his memory. He wants to spend time here even more than he did at the massive intergalactic library they visited, because tangible knowledge is even better than books.

But. That would take a few days, at least. Donnie is good, but he’s not good enough to get everything down like that in one night.

But he still desperately wants to- this is one of the nicest (and one of the very few) individuals he’s met that is willing to teach him something  _useful_  and  _interesting._  He doesn’t want to depart before he can at least enjoy the experience.

Donnie is waiting for Mikey to start complaining about the time it’s taking to fix the ship, needle at Donnie for being a gearhead and a  _nerd_  and using up their precious vacation to learn  _boring stuff._  But it hasn’t happened yet.

Mikey is alternating between sitting atop the ship, reading comics on the holopad, or messing around in the scrapyard surrounding the shop and traversing rusting piles of ships. He’s only stopped a few times to peer over Donnie’s shoulder, and every time Donnie expects his brother to finally start up, finally say  _“We’re just wasting time, come on Donnie,”_  he just… wanders off again.

The next time Mikey swings by, sliding down the side of the ship to hang above where Donnie is working on the engine- while their helpful and kind mechanic takes zir dinner break- Donnie chews his lip, and then asks.

“Aren’t you getting… impatient? Or something?” Donnie questions. Mikey cocks his head to the side, like a curious bird.

“No?” he says. “Why, are you?”

“No,” Donnie says, because how  _could he?_  “but… I thought maybe you’d… I dunno. Want to go do something else already?”

Mikey shrugs. “Nah. We’ve been on the go for a few days now; a rest is cool by me. ‘sides, you’re getting your nerd-on for all this- stuff,” he waves vaguely at the shop. “so I’m good to just hang out ‘til you’re done.”

“Oh,” Donnie says, blinking, taken a little aback. “You sure?”

“Sure am,” Mikey says, and clambers back up the side of the ship with a wave goodbye. Donnie is half certain his brother is going to double back, turn around with a  _“Gotcha!”_  and be kidding about what he’s said, but Mikey just jumps up into the rafters and goes exploring again.

Donnie scratches his head, but decides wondering is ultimately looking a gift horse in the mouth.

Mikey is patient the whole four days it takes for Donnie to be satisfied with his learnings, and barely fusses about anything the whole while. Donnie is a little disbelieving it’s actually happened, but largely touched for the gift of time and space.

 

\---

 

Mikey gets to choose the next destination after Donnie’s binge on spaceships, and he picks a planet made of softly glowing plant life and deep, fathomless seas.

It’s the seafood, in all honesty, that draws him. Mikey can’t help it- good food, like  _seriously_  good food, is so hard to come by. He gets teased for it by his brothers, but he can’t help his passion for food. Baking and cooking comes easy to him, and getting to experience  _space_  fine cuisine isn’t something he can pass up.

They end up combing through the smaller markets, where local fishermen-  _literally,_  with their scales gleaming- show their wares. Mikey trails his hands over the fins of large exotic looking fishes, takes cautious sniffs of fruit only found on this planet, and mourns he can’t take the time to try every single item for himself.

He expects sometimes for Donnie to complain about the smell of raw meat, or maybe about the stickiness of some patches on the market road, or about wandering in aimless circles and eating things. But he doesn’t.

Mikey is still cautious though, because as much as he really, really wants to take his time, he also doesn’t want to start a fight accidentally. Not when things are going so well, and they’re getting along so easily, and Donnie is still carrying himself with content gait he only gets when he’s accomplished something that makes him happy.

Until he gets to an open cookout, Mikey manages to keep himself from getting invested in anything. It doesn’t seem so much a cook-off, but instead a gathering of locals. Sharing food, showing off skills at a grill. Family things. Mikey’s hands twitch around an imaginary knife- wanting to get in there and let his translator do its thing, let him learn what these people are all talking about to each other.

But… that would take hours, and there’s no way…

Mikey glances at Donnie, hardly keeping his feet from dragging him right towards the gathering.

Donnie looks at him, bemused.

“What are you waiting for?” Donnie asks, smiling. “Go already.”

Mikey smiles brilliantly, and does.

He spends the rest of the afternoon, then evening, and then  _late_  evening enjoying the party of food. It’s a local holiday, it turns out. A time to share food and bounty from the sea, and pay tribute to their two sided ocean goddess.  _The one who provides and the one who takes_ , they tell him over a grill, three slices of seasoned fish on it.

Mikey focuses on the providing side of things, like the rest of the participants in the communal barbeque are. Whenever he glances towards Donnie, he finds his brother relaxing comfortably to the side of things. Reading, or maybe writing, on the holopad while locals mill around his spot at one of the many tables.

Mikey slides dish after dish in front of his brother on his quest to learn  _all_  of the local cooking tricks, and he is pleasantly surprised again and again that the plates are empty when he swings by next.

They don’t leave until the last vestiges do, wandering off into the ambient glow of the town around them. Donnie doesn’t complain even once about the long wait, and for that, Mikey is more than happy to share the last of the sweetly crispy desert he made.

 

\---

 

The wealth of planets they can visit never decreases, and even as they check off more and more things on their list, it never ends. Just keeps getting longer and longer, and it’s..

Incredible. The endlessness, the unlimited time, so much  _freedom._

After spending so many years, especially the years following their father’s death, in a world that felt too small and too crowded and just so hard to deal with some nights… it’s intoxicating in the best way.

Neither of them has felt this easily happy in years, if ever.

 

\---

 

“What if we just stayed out here forever?” Donnie hears Mikey whisper, sitting on the edge of their ship’s tail while they dock for a sleep cycle. They’re taking a moment to enjoy the endless swirl of stars and planets around their rest station, and Donnie doesn’t react with surprise at the suggestion.

Because in all honesty, he’s been thinking the same thing.

“Earth is our home,” he says, because that’s true. “and we said we’d go back already. We told our family we would.”

Mikey sighs, curling over his knees and resting his chin on them. “I know,” he says. “but…”

 _But what if?_  What if they never gave up this freedom? What if they kept going forever, taking what they needed and working for what they couldn’t get, seeing the edges of the universe and going farther. Never again boxed in by anything, or anyone. Not like on earth. Not like at home.

Donnie sighs, and leans back on his palms.

“We said we would,” he says eventually, because that’s all there really is to say. They will go back, one way or another, and how could they ever really stay away? No matter what, they couldn’t ever leave their family behind. Not forever.

Mikey seems to know that fact as well as Donnie does, and sighs a second time. As the quiet pause draws out, Donnie puts an arm around his brother’s shoulders; pulling him to his side. Mikey’s arm comes to rest around Donnie’s shell, and remains there with a loose grip.

They enjoy the view until their personal atmosphere filters start to let in the cold of space, and then head inside to sleep.

 

\---

 

Somewhere, after another dozen planets, they start talking. About home, about themselves. About how things are. About how they were, before war, before their father’s death, before growing up.

It’s not a bad conversation. But it’s not a good one, either. It fills up the space of their dark bedroom, laying on a large bed they’ve been sharing. Big, heavy… hard to think about…

It’s doesn’t feel good to talk about, but it doesn’t feel exactly bad, either. Feels like a long time coming, if they feel like being honest about stuff a little longer.

It’s okay, afterwards. Maybe even better.

They’re better for it.

 

\---

 

They go home, after another few weeks. With a ship full of souvenirs- all theirs, all things they got because they wanted to and could- and time spent in just each other’s company, it’s… easy to go home. Easy to land the ship in one of the many warehouses that the military and the Utrom share, and disembark with all their gotten (and stolen) booty.

They feel steadier. Better connected. Things are exactly perfect per say, but its better now. They understand each other better. They feel closer for their vacation.

And like the saying says, walking back into their home is a swell of fond emotion. Space is huge and endless and full of possibilities, but this is where they grew up. Where they became who they are, for better or worse, and the feeling being enclosed in a too small space is absent.

Their brothers greet them with a range of emotions. Relief they came back- happiness they’re unharmed- upset they did this so out of the blue- kind of pissed off they didn’t invite anyone else- and ultimately resigned, but somewhat fond and amused, grievance about the whole thing.

Donnie exchanges a glance with Mikey, who grins mischievously.

“You know…” Donnie starts, interrupting the barrage of questions and thinly veiled scolding.

“Maybe you guys should try taking a vacation sometime, too,” Mikey finishes for him, and just grins at the sudden silence from their family.

Donnie puts their holopad into Leo’s hands, information on screen about the start-up sequence to the engine controls. Mikey passes Raph a physical notebook, containing info about all the places they visited.

“It’d probably do you guys a world of good,” Donnie says cheekily, and they both have to laugh at the truly baffled looks on their brother’s faces.

**Author's Note:**

> love these two. they deserve everything, and are absolutely right that their older brothers could do with a road trip experience.
> 
> if you have questions about me, my writing, and this fic... [just hmu on tumblr and check out my info there.](https://onthespectrumwriting.tumblr.com/)


End file.
